Not Quite Daggerfall
by Avese23
Summary: Rosaeline Selve is captured trying to cross into Skyrim. Once she escapes she is faced with a question of identity, and where she stands in the world. The story is a retelling of my game play as a Breton in skyrim set in a story format. Join Rosaeline's journey as she explores the true meaning of magic, conscience, and-yes- love.
1. Only A Fool Turns Down A Free Gem

AN: Want to know the game style of a random stranger online? No? Didn't think so. But before you click the X button on this tab- it's not some boring retelling. It's an action packed story (soon to be) filled with cliff hangers and plot twists you can't just look up on skyrim wiki. Just as any rp fan, when I play the game I don't just enjoy the pleasure of power attacks and xbox achievements. Oh, no. I actually think a lot about my character's actions. Not just what I would do, but what my character would.

I know it's long for a first chapter (though my brother survived reading it), but I wanted to keep as much of the original script as I could. In this chapter Rosaeline has less of a character, but does anyone when they start the game? As the story goes on Rosaeline experiments with different skills as well as communities, until she finds one that brings out her very best. I hope you enjoy this!

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 **Only A Fool Turns Down A Free Gem** |Disclaimer: I don't own Elder Scrolls and (though I love it) wouldn't want to. All that work...I'd rather enjoy the fruits of Bethesda's labor, mwah ha ha.

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I open my eyes and see my hands are bound. I can't quite recall what happened, and my head hurts like crazy. Beside me I see other prisoners with grim expressions. One of them looks to me and when realizing I am now conscious exclaims "Hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there."

I was? Oh, now I remember. That was horrible, why was I even there? I look over to the man the speaker was referring to. "Damn you Stormcloaks... Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

Aha. That's why I am here. But, I am not a Stormcloak. I mean, not yet. If the imperials are the reason I'm here I definitely won't join them. I suddenly feel sick in the stomach. Why did I have to get caught up in the war? And if they think I'm a Stormcloak- what will they do to me? The thief turns to look at me. "You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." Was he making a point or an alliance?

The first man who spoke cuts in darkly "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now."

Well, so much for any hope. "Is there really no way out of this mess?" My question is drowned out by an irritated "Shut up back there."

Everyone turns to look at the driver except for one man who just looked down. The thief stares at him for a second before asking "What's wrong with him, huh?"

Was that-is that? The Stormcloak answered my question with an outraged "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Ulfric is gagged and can't speak. His face is in a set gruff expression which doesn't change the slightest at the thief's remark nor the Stormcloak's.

So that's why it's such a big deal we were caught. Or, the stormcloaks were caught. I still don't know why I am here. Oh, right. Like the thief said, we somehow got caught up in this mess. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion... if they've captured you... oh gods, where are they taking us?" I have similar thoughts in mind.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The Stormcloak says promises.

"No, This can't be happening! This isn't happening!"

I want to do something to calm him down. Whether it's reassurance or telling him to be quiet already for the gods sake. The Stormcloak beats me to it "Hey, what village are you from horse-thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

What about the rest of the world? Bretons like me, or another race. It was times like these when I wondered whether Nords ever thought of anything other than themselves. "Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead." The thief admits through his nerves.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting."

"Good, let's get this over with." Tullius replies.

The horse thief loses his shit completely, "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!"

I want to shout at the guards. To cry out to the gods like the thief. I want to ask how this is fair. I want to yell in their faces that there was no Talos in the theifs prayers. That we are just loyal citizens. People. Who do not have to die. Who really, really don't want to die. "Look at him! General Tullius, the Military. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." the Stormcloak notices where they are "This is Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Velod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in... Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

People gather from their houses. I feel so embarrassed, I just want to hide. Somehow I force myself to keep my head up, my back straight. I shouldn't be here. I have nothing to feel shame about. "Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" "You need to go inside, little cub." "Why? I want to watch the soldiers!" "Inside the house, now."

As the child goes inside I think of my own family. Of my best friend, Havok. How I missed them. I wonder if the guards will even tell them. And if they do? Will my people be ashamed? Will my family be scared? Will my friends be proud of me? Havok had always wanted to join the Stormcloaks. Would he ever get the chance, what with Ulfric heading to his death? "Woah…"The driver pulls in the reins and the passengers feel a jerk as they come to a stop.

A female captain walks over to us. She wears a stern expression that makes me want to curl up in fear. "Get these prisoners out of the cart!" she barks.

"Why are we stopping?" The fear in his voice tells us all he knows the answer to that already.

Ralof humors him with one of his usual cheerful statements "Why do you think? End of the line." He stands up "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

At first I think he said 'guards', and I want to shout back I don't give a damn what the guards want. Then I realize what he really said and I want to cry. I'm young, and innocent. This war has taken so much, and now it wants more lives. My life. "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The Stormcloak says, he gestures to me "She's not a rebel either, far as we know. Do you see her whining?"

"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief's pleas seemed useless to me, but inside a part of me agreed with him. The Stormcloaks know we are innocent, why are they letting this happen to us?

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" I hope I'm not last. Though putting off death is all I've ever done, I know when the end is here. If I go first, at least I get it over with. Arkay, let it be quick.

"Empire loves their damned lists." The Stormcloak mutters.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Ulfric steps forward obediently.

I have had absolutely no take on the war before this, besides agreeing with my mother that it is a hindrance and brought unnecessary death and damage. Still, something is wrong here. Ulfric looks so defeated. His life still has a few precious seconds left, but his eyes are already hollow. As if he'd given up long ago. It-it isn't right. I had always thought the leader of the rebellion would have more fire in him then this. His follower certainly did, "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!"

"Ralof of Riverwood." The Stormcloak moves forward.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief panics "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

He bolts. "Halt!" the female captain commands.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir shouts foolishly.

"Archers!"

I close my eyes. I've seen enough battles to know what came next. "Aaa..!" at the scream my eyes open without permission. I see Lokir on the ground, he'd been shot in the knee but from where I am standing he looks good as dead. We all knew he would be soon enough.

The captain glares "Anyone else feel like running?" she asks us coldly.

No no no no no. "Wait... You there. Step forward" My legs betray me too, and I follow her command.

"Who are you?"

Who am I? I barely know anymore. My past life is over. Even if I don't die I can never be who I was. I still look the same. Golden brown skin, A bob of dark brown hair. My eyes are still green, though they've seen things they never meant to see. I'm tall enough, a bit too slim and weak built to survive long in this war without a home or allies. I'm only seventeen, but this is where I meet my end.

"Rosaeline Selve"

"You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?" None of your business, imperial, I think at him furiously "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

Yeah, of course I'm not on the list. I didn't do anything. Just, let me go. "Forget the list. She goes straight to the block." I thought imperials respect lists. Rolaf said you liked them!

Maybe it's not the whole empire that's the problem. Just heartless captains like this lady. "By your orders, Captain." And also subservient wimps like this guy. Who have a heart but don't know how to use it.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp the throne." Tullius says, stepping up to Ulfric.

The voice, for real? Like a shout? Is Ulfric Stormcloak a dragonborn, like in the legends? Ulfric growls at Tullius, showing the strength of a true war leader. "You started this war, flung skyrim into chaos." Tullius continues viciously "And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."

Some creature roars in the distance. By the divines, what was that. We are in Helgen, we should be safe. Well, not from the imperials, but from beasts. And what creature is large enough to make such a sound? It seemed to come from above, but that can't be right. "What was that?" the subservient wimp asks nervously.

"It's nothing. Carry on." It seems Tullius is not only as heartless as the captain, he lacks some common sense of both wisdom as well as survival instinct. Who put him in charge?!

"Yes, General Tullius!" That's not what you...urgh! Tell him he's being foolhardy." she turns to the priestess "Give them their last rights."

Please let one of them be, 'List reasons why they shouldn't die.' or even better 'evaluate the party and let the good ones go'.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the 8 divines upon you-" The priestess starts spewing senseless crap before she is interrupted by one of the Stormcloak prisoners who is not Rolaf.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." he says, and marches over to the block without even being asked. Great divines, he must be dry with fright.

The priest hesitates then replies, "… as you wish."

Even though I highly suspect the priestess's blessings were pointless, I still wonder if receiving them would make me somehow braver, or feel pain less. I push these silly hopeless thoughts away and watch with a sick feeling as the Stormcloak kneels at the block, "Come on! I haven't got all morning!" he looks up at the captain "… My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Ooh, how I wish I had the guts to spite the captain like that. I close my eyes as the captain steps on his back. While the axe is swung I fill my ears and mind with thoughts of the cleverest most painful insults I could hurl at the imperials. Some are just plain mean, others have hints of reasoning. Like why what they are doing is wrong. Some of them I think of using, most of them suck. "You Imperial bastards!" One of the late Stormcloak's comrades shouts.

"Justice!" A towns folk shouts back.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" Another brainwashed citizen jeers.

"...As fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof says softly, making me feel a sense of sadness.

That guy was important to Ralof. He probably did many great things. But he is gone. I didn't even know his name. My sympathy becomes grief tinged with anger. This is unfair, but no one is doing anything. "Next, the Breton." My chest tightens.

I'm next. This is the end. At least it will be quick. Will I never see Havok or my family again? I don't want to die. As my brain tortures me with panicked thoughts, the creature roars again, closer. "There it is again... did you hear that?" The subservient (but smart) wimp says.

"I said... Next. Prisoner" The captain hisses through clenched teeth.

"To the block prisoner. Nice and easy." What are you saying? None of this feels easy. And if you mean death, how could you know? You're alive and well, while I'm about to be decapitated!

I am moved to the block and my whole body shakes. My eyes shut tightly, but it doesn't stop the tears from escaping. As they roll down my cheeks I hear the headsman raise his axe. My heart seems to stop and everything goes dark through my closed lids. Then a great mass hits a building with a flapping of wings and and loud, deafening roar. I scream. "What in Oblivion is that!?" The subservient wimp exclaims.

"Sentries, what do you see?" the female captain asks.

"It's in the clouds...!"

"Dragon!"

My eyes flicker open and my breath returns to me. My throat goes dry and I hyperventilate. It is the evil Alduin. From the legends. I look around to see the headsman has run off somewhere. He saved me... (The beast roars) ...and he's about to kill us all!

"Guards! Get the townsfolk to safety!"

Before I can even start to come up for a plan about my safety, Rolaf grabs my shoulder. "come on, Breton! The guards won't give us another chance. This way!"

I try to keep up as we dodge fighting guard's and the wreckage caused from Alduin's fiery breath. We enter a building and Rolaf finds a knife to cut his binds. He turns to me "Hurry, come here so I can remove yours."

As my hands are freed I feel strong for the first time since I was captured. I wring my hands, wincing at the marks made by the rope. If Rolaf can find a weapon I would find something too. Then I can defend myself, and I won't be weak and helpless any longer. Or ever again. This I vowed as we run up the stairs in search for supplies- and a way out.

I turn to see Ulfric is with us. Rolaf cuts his binds and turns to look at the Stormcloak leader expectantly "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

The jarl of Windhelm spits out his gag. "Legends don't burn down villages."

As if to prove he indeed existed, Alduin let out another terrible roar. "We need to move, now!" Rolaf commands. They continue to run, up a flight of stairs until they reach a dead end. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

I hurriedly follow the directions, turning back only once as Rolaf says "We'll follow when we can!"

I jump. The ambushed town looks oddly more frightening than when we had first arrived. Death had been more certain, but at least it had been predictable. I am not used to making fast decisions, going solo, surviving on my own. That will have to change fast. I am constantly turning my head, leaping away from the constant flow of danger. My brain hurts, my legs ache. I wanna hurl. To put it simple, everything inside me has decided to stop functioning the one time in my life I need it to work. "Haming, you need to get over here. Now! Torolf!"

Suddenly the subservient wimp is in front of me. He shouts a warning to this 'Torolf', but it is too late. Seeming frustrated, but not all together heart broken the subservient wimp yells "Gods... Everyone get back!"

Alduin lets out a lethal shout, "Yol... Toor... Shul!"

The subservient wimp sees me and says, "Still alive, prisoner?" Before I can respond he continues "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."

Turning to the man next to him he says "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Gunnar says.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar commands.

Alduin suddenly lands on the building next to me. He is right above us. Hadvar gestures for me to follow and we race to Helgen Keep. While we are running I wonder if this is a trick. What if Hadvar is turning me in? I banish the thought, and push myself to run faster. The dragon is the only thing any sane person is thinking about. As we arrive, Rolaf runs to catch up. Just then, Alduin lets out the same shout yet again, "Yol... Toor... Shul!"

The dragon breathes out a powerful fiery breath. I open my mouth to warn Rolaf, but the Stormcloak had already made it. "Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar says.

I look away from Rolaf to see that Tullius is with us. The general shouts, "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"

"It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!" Hadvar sees Rolaf "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Rolaf taunts him.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde." Hadvar snaps back.

"You! Come on, into the keep!" Rolaf tells me.

I make my decision and follow the Stormcloak. Though Hadvar seems to have my interests at heart, I do not fully trust him. A moment ago, he was letting the captain lady decapitate me! I do not forget things like that so easily. We have just gotten inside when Alduin says fiercely, "Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki." I shiver.

As we enter the keep, I see a Stormcloak. I feel my heart catch in my throat- the man is dead. I look over at Rolaf, who is crouched beside the corpse. I hear him whisper "We will meet again in Sovngarde, brother" Rolaf sees me watching and points to the body "Take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore."

I swallow, then nod. I find heavy armor, but no weapons. Putting on the armor makes me feel safer, and like I belong here. Fighting alongside an actual Stormcloak. As I am equipping the armor Rolaf examines the doors around us. From the curses he is muttering, and the expression on his face, the doors appear to be locked or otherwise inaccessible from the inside. I am wondering what we will do now when the doors open from the outside, by two imperials. "It's the Stormcloak prisoners!" they exclaim.

Rolaf quickly cuts them down. I snag the captain's armor, deciding lighter protection and avoiding any foes until I get a weapon to be my best strategy. Rolaf looks at me for a second, probably because I just discarded Stormcloak garb for an Imperial one. He just shakes his head and crouches down to take two keys from the dead soldiers. He tosses one to me, and opens the door. We have entered some sort of store room, where two more imperials are gathering supplies. I watch Rolaf's strategy, as well as his enemies as they fight. The imperials seem to be more about charging with heavy blows, while Rolaf pays more attention to footing and small movements. The Stormcloak finishes them off with a side step, before breaking their block with a power attack. When we are sure they are dead, we search their body. It seems all imperials carry mostly the same supplies, depending on their job. Rolaf looks around at various chests. Seeming pleased with their contents he tells me to look around for potions.

I search a few barrels filled with merely cheeses and salt before uncovering one with anything good. There is a magicka potion over by a table with bread, tankards, and a potion of minor healing which shall definitely be of use. Between the barrel of potions and a cabinet there is a crate containing five rock warbler eggs. Not quite sure yet what they do, I take them anyway.

Continuing downwards, we discover two stormcloaks battling an imperial torturer and his assistant. We quickly join in, Rolaf with his knife and me with some carefully placed punches, and we take down the imperials. One of the Stormcloaks survives and Rolaf asks her, "Was Jarl Ulfric with you?"

The Stormcloak shakes her head, "No, I haven't seen him since the dragon showed up".

Disappointed Rolaf walks around the room. I watch as he approaches one of the cages. Something dawns on him and he says, "Wait a second. It looks like there's something in this cage." he fiddles with the door but nothing happens, "Ah, it's locked. See if you can get it open with some picks. We'll need that gold when we get out."

He hands me twelve picks. I wonder why he doesn't just do it himself. Maybe he wants this to be a team effort, maybe it's a test. Maybe he just sucks at lock picking. I examine the lock, and it seems to be simple enough. Still, I have never done this before in circumstances such as these. It takes a few tries, but I still have plenty left over when I hear the satisfying click, and the door swings open. Inside the cage lies a dead mage wearing a novice hood, and robes. Along with this he has twenty five gold coins, and two potions of minor magicka. Next to him are a few more septims and a sparks spell tome. "Woah, is this…" I breathe, looking at the cover with a dazed expression.

The corner of Rolaf's mouth upturns in a slightly amused grin. "Yeah, a spell tome. You can keep it if you want. I have no desire for spell casting."

"Thanks" I murmur, still looking at the book. I want to explore it's secrets right then and there, but I force myself to put it away until later.

The next room we enter is clearly an armory. I grab an iron shield and mace, as well as two lockpicks. On a table outside the cage (this room seems to connect to the previous in some important way) is a knapsack. I grab it and put my supplies inside of it along with what it already contained (four lockpicks and some gold). I decide now is when I use that heavy armor I found. The mace is a one handed weapon so I grab an iron dagger as well. I put it in my bag to sell later when I see the dead torturer still has a steel dagger gripped in his hand. There are books all around us, and one title catches my eye. The Book of the Dragonborn. I snatch it, stuffing it into my bag.

Beyond is a hallway lined with cells. I find more golden septims, and stuff them in the bag with the rest. It is dreary passing by all these long dead prisoners, I grab septims (and occasionally bonemeal) trying not to look at anything too closely. A dead Stormcloak is ragged robes seems to stare right through me.

We get to a natural cave which somehow manages to be creepier than the cages. There are soldiers guarding a platform, and I nearly get impaled by an incoming armor. Now that I have suitable weapons, and some sense of who I am up against, I join Rolaf and a few other stormcloaks in the fight. I am nervous that I won't be able to hold my ground. I come to find, however, that fighting close combat isn't as complicated as I had thought. All I have to do is strike blow after blow, and wear out my enemy before they wear out me.

Though I have never been the aggressive type, in times of war all of Skyrim knew the basics of fighting. At least, how to defend themselves. In Highrock, it was no different. Struggle for power seems like a huge deal in Skyrim, but back home it is the norm. Things are not as brutal as in the second era, under the empire's rule the kingdoms in High Rock are more concrete now. However, Bretons still hold on tight to our old traditions. Almost all Bretons dream of proving themselves, with politics, or good deeds. My brother is a full time adventurer. So is my aunt. This isn't the first time I've held a weapon, nor the first time I have used one. Not even close. This is, however, the first time I have battled for my life.

We fight for some time, until only the archers are left. A few Stormcloaks head towards them, one is shot down almost immediately. We have no bows. How can we get them? I am no where skilled enough to use the sparks at all, nor my fire magic for long. It's not like I could hit them with my dagger, even if they were in a closer range. Suddenly, I notice something. The archers are standing right next to a pool of oil. Highly flammable oil. I get an idea. Praying to the divines this will work, I summon a flame. I only have enough magicka to last a few seconds, but that should be all I need. Casting the first, I shoot it in between the Stormcloaks and the archers. "What the blazes" an archer shouts, annoyed.

"Watch it!" A stormcloak says "What the hell do you think you're doing?" another adds.

Rolaf has an odd expression on his face, but he doesn't say anything. I think he's figured out what I'm doing. I hurry to do faze two before the imperials realize as well. The archers take a few steps back to avoid the flames, and that is all that I need. I shoot another flame towards the oil. The spell isn't that advanced, and can only shoot a small distance. Luckily, enough of the fire touched the oil for my plan to work.

The whole things caught ablaze in a matter of seconds. One particularly stupid archer tried stomping out the fire, and got oil all over himself, burning him faster. They were trapped!

"Nice going." A Stormcloak tells me.

"Once they're severely damaged, I can put out the flames so we might be able to save the loot." Another suggests, showing that they know ice magic.

Following through with the plan, we wait until we are sure they are badly enough wounded before putting out the flames. After the archers are all the way dead, we loot the bodies. I take my share, five septims, a few arrows, a longbow. The Stormcloaks even insist I take the petty soul gem we find. I am no soul reaper, and honestly don't see how I'll ever use it, but take it graciously. Only a fool turns down a free gem.

Rolaf and I turn to leave. The Stormcloaks stay where they are. "You're welcome to escape with us" I say.

They smile, but make no move to. "We will wait for Ulfric."

Rolaf smiles back at them, "I hope to see you all in Windhelm again one day, my brothers and sisters."

"May Talos be with you." They reply.

We wave. No matter what side of the war I end up on, I know I've made valuable friends in the meantime. I feel that our escape is near, and I await it with a mixture of fear and excitement. If I can get out of here, it means I survived the journey. But, whatever comes after?

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Yay! Whew, that was probably one of the largest chapters I've written for a fanfic so far, though it sure didn't seem like it! Hopefully the next one will be equally fun to write (and of course to read). Thanks for sharing this story with me, please tell me what you think!


	2. Clean Slate

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skyim**

A big thanks to Xanse13, for reading this before I posted. I really appreciated your continued support of this story, I was feeling stuck while writing the end of this chapter, and having you look over it really helped.

Thanks to BardChimera747 for your wonderful review. I wish you good luck with your next build, I am honored to have been any help with that! Your feedback is deeply appreciated, and I tried to keep it in mind while writing this chapter.

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A.N I apologize for this taking so long, I am having trouble writing as fast as I would like to which is why a lot of my stories have updating slowly recently (or not at all, hang in there Rose & Jarred!) I am trying to prioritize Night and Sun (hopefully I'll have the next chapter out soon) as well as this. I have started logging literally everything I do when playing Skyrim, and try to really get into character more than I had been when I started. I am really itching to write about what I have played recently, and hope you guys will enjoy reading it when we get there.

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Clean Slate

After being underground and blinded by fear for so long, at first glance the exit to the cave looks like a portal. A hint of daylight shines through the cave, and foliage can be seen on the other side. I feel a nice breeze, and allow myself to think of happy endings. Perhaps things can get better here on out.

When we exit the cave I flinch at the sight of Alduin's mighty form flying overhead. Right then and there I make another vow. To learn to see one of those things, and feel excitement rather than terror. Even so, I doubt I will ever get used to one of those appearing out of nowhere. How empowering it must feel, I think, to scope the skies as if they were made for me. Bringing energy and chaos wherever I go. I raise a hand in Alduin's direction. Ralof shoots me a bewildered look, but I ignore him. Goodbye, O mighty world eater. The next time we meet face to face I will be ready for you. And that's a promise.

The terrain around me is the home of numerous trees and tall grasses. A rabbit digs a hole in the coarse pine needle littering ground, scurrying away at the sight of two armed humans. As I tread through the wilderness, the tall grasses scratch against my bare arms, and the kinks in my armor. I needed to find better gear, and soon. Rubbing at my exposed flesh, I have to bite my tongue not to itch them. Rolaf shoots me a sympathetic look, but we don't slow down. Who knows what could be hunting us?

Suddenly the Stormcloak stops. I freeze, has something bad happened? How would he know? I scan our surroundings- nothing. Then he turns to me, and I calm down slightly. His expression isn't distressed nor alarmed. "What is it?" I ask, brows furling under my helmet.

"It's probably better if we split up. Thank you, I could not have made it if it weren't for you today." He says genuinely grateful.

Okaaay. That's a great way for one of us (most likely me) to end up dead. However, I don't know Rolaf very well (Or at all) and don't feel like arguing. No matter what he said, I still doubt myself. Yes, I did think quick on my feet. I should be grateful, as well as proud. Still, I am nervous about parting ways with my only ally in these strange lands. I am also nervous about dying, and so far I had no reason not to trust Rolaf's judgment. "Uh, sure." I say, my expression blank.

He just nods. I let out my nerves in a deep breath, heading off in the opposite direction. Okay, where to? It is times like these when I wish I hadn't been kidnapped, nearly beheaded, and had to flee from a dragon attack. I wish none of this had happened. Why did I have to get caught up in the war? If it wasn't for those dumb Nords and their big wars, I could be crossing the border safely, map in hand, clean slate.

The surrounding area was quiet- peaceful almost. I shiver. It has started raining, the cold wetness seeping through my found armor. I need to do... something. Anything. And fast. I don't remember most of what the map had on it, geography was never my thing, but I do remember the holds, and some major cities. I know where I am, sort of. Everything is blurry, I still can't remember where this all started. Why I left my family. Where Havok is now. Did he manage to get here safely? Is he still trying to cross the border?

I see some miscellaneous plants scattered about. All are new to me, but I pick them anyway. I've never been much of an alchemist, but perhaps it is a profession I should look into. The pines around me vaguely resemble the ones back home. I wonder if their branches have the same medicinal properties. I'm not going to risk it, the bark seems too thick to easily snap a branch. I don't have the time, nor the bravery to venture into the shady underbrush.

I am trekking through a patch of considerably long grass when I bump into something, or rather someone. "Oof!" I stagger, my hands reaching behind me to catch my fall. Between my armor and the softness of the dirt, I could have jumped from three times my height without breaking a sweat, but that didn't mean I liked randomly falling. My head jerks up as I hit the ground, and I frantically try and locate my weapon, expecting a foe to attack at any second. I am surprised, however, when I see a familiar face reaching out a hand apologetically.

Relieved, and slightly flustered I jump to my feet, ignoring Ralof's outstretched hand. "What is it?" I ask, had we not agreed to part ways?

"I'm so glad I found you, it occured to me splitting up to not be a good strategy." He explains quickly.

I sigh. _Wimp_. "Okay, let's go then."

We walk in silence for some time. Ralof occasionally stopping to check his map (where did _he_ find one?) and I to gather supplies. We don't come across any hostile creatures or people, the dragon's shouts must have scared everything off. The natural path we are following starts to climb uphill, and nearing the top I can make out an eerie looking structure in the distance. "Bleak Falls Barrow." the Storm Cloak explained grimly "The place is said to be crawling with Draugr. The idea of it still gives me nightmares."

So even soldiers didn't venture into the place of the undead willingly. From what Havok had told me, Skyrim was teeming with monsters and bandits, and that everyone who was someone fought them on a regular basis. Guess these guys are more concerned with killing each other than protecting the people. Come to think of it, my family had said mercenary work wouldn't be hard to find, as not many Nords attempted it these days. But that finding someone who will trust me enough to pay for it straight up, not so easy. I couldn't imagine how fighting in some war could give one more glory than clearing bandits lairs and fighting trolls. I have never understood politics, nor thought bloodshed a feasible strategy for gaining what one wants. A Nord's gods are a big part of their culture, but for a highly religious group, they seem lacking in morals.

As if the divines had known I was thinking of them, we come across three large stones. "Guardian Stones." Ralof says, pointing them out "They grant you blessings. You can change stones after, but only harbor one's blessing at a time."

Mage Stone. Warrior Stone. Thief Stone. I go up to each of them, as Rolaf describes each of them to me. I am not sure which would suit me best, I'm glad it's not permanent if I don't want it to be. I move up to the Warrior Stone, boldly. I am not a mage, a thief, not even a warrior. But I could be. It was in my blood, and an essential skill if I wanted to survive out here. I accept the blessing.

"Warrior, good! Those stars will guide you to honor and glory." I hear Ralof tell me, but I barely hear him. Wow. I'd never felt anything like this. It was wonderful.

We are nearing the end of the journey, the hill slopes down and we are able to move quicker than before. Ralof keeps telling me of how wonderful the Stormcloak cause is. As annoying as the guy's pestering is, I can't help but fantasize about joining the army. It would be a place where I knew I belonged. Plus, I am annoyed at the Thalmor's control, and their silly rules. It would bring me immense join to end their dictative reign.

"I have a sister in Riverwood." Ralof states informatively.

"Oh, okay." I say not sure where he is going with this. He continues,"Her name is Gerdur she runs the mill. She could help you get settled here."

"Oh! That's where we are going." I feel extremely stupid but also annoyed. He hasn't been exactly clear before now.

"Where are you coming from again?" He asks brows furled, eyes sweeping over me as if I was a complex puzzle he was trying to solve.

As uncomfortable as it is making me, I truly hope he figures it out. It's like someone took a meat cleaver down the side of my face, and left me to guess what had been taken. I have never been exactly sure of myself, and now I can barely remember my parents names, much less why I am in this strange country. His question, at least, I could answer. "I'm from Daggerfall." I explain "I identify mainly as a Breton, but have some redguard blood."

"So, you're like the ultimate mashup?"

"Sort of. I mean Bretons originated from an old kind of human and elves. Really we are our own race now, though."

Didn't this guy know basic first era history? And why so many questions? I guess the rumors are right, in skyrim secrets are practically nonexistent. One person's business is everyone's. Well, that applies to me now too. "Remind me why everyone here is so bloodthirsty?"

The stormcloak gave me a pointed look. As if to say 'not funny, but I'll answer you anyway'. "Ulfric Stormcloak was tired of living under the Thalmors rule. He killed the high king with his voice, but when he tried to take the position the imperial side got, er, mad."

"Mad enough to decapitate Ulfric and anyone who he's so much as looked at?" I cut in bitterly. Then the full extent of his words hit me. "Wait- with his voice? Like a shout?"

Ralof smiled. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

If someone had tried to convince me of that a few days ago I would ignore their words as nonsense. I mean, if someone had tried convincing me of Alduin's appearance, or any dragon for the matter, I would have a similar reaction. Now that I knew the truth, I would believe almost anything. "The leader of the rebellion is a dragonborn?" I ask softly.

"Oh, no. No. There hasn't been a dragonborn for forever."

"There hasn't been a dragon for forever either." I say, then add "So how can he shout?"

"He studied with the greybeards, I think. They taught him the language of the dragons, and he used the knowledge to kill the high king." Ralof explains.

"So anyone can learn to shout?" I ask, a hopeful tone slipping into my voice.

Ralof chuckled. "Don't get your hopes up. Ulfric is a hero, not all can be like him. If you really want to learn, you will have to work for it."

Well, duh. I frown but don't reply. I know I am being silly to doubt Ulfric's greatness, but after seeing him so diminished, facing death? He didn't seem like the powerful man he was said to be. He just seemed...human.

I see the outlines of structures in the distance. Riverwood. We will be there soon. A stormcloak rebel passes by on the road, and halts by us, recognizing my companion. Ralof stops as well, and points out Riverwood to me. "This is my comrade. I need to report to him about the situation. You can go on ahead." Ralof turns to thank me again, and I offer my own gratitude. I am alive. Walking towards the city, I soon break into a run. Ralof shouts something to me. That he will meet up with me in Riverwood.

Being so close to society gives me comfort, and I feel safe enough to look around. Though skyrim is cold, it has beautiful sites. On my way from the keep I had passed through flourishing forest and natural paths that were just lovely. A bubbling river ran past the small town. I made a sharp turn around the bend, watching fondly as a mocharch flew past. For such a cool climate, the environment was at no point lacking of growth and natural scenery. The howl of a wolf shook me out of my thoughts, and I picked up my pace. The buildings came into view. One minute it was hidden, the next, boom! I am still getting used to all the mountains and hills here. I could be up high and far away from a place and see it perfectly well, while as I got lower and closer it disappeared until I stumble upon it.

As the city comes into view I search my bag for some paper and a quill. I trace my finger a few centimeters away from the standing stones, and write _Riverwood_ in big letters. I draw a little landmark, then stuff the paper back in my bag. Someday I will have a full map. I can make this my home.

I enter the settlement, traveling under a large wooden bridge. Guards patrol above me, as well as throughout the city. A handful of bedrolls surround the guard's campfire and I make a mental note of this. Surely no one would mind if I crashed there now and then. I certainly lacked the septims to stay at an inn regularly. Making my way around the place, I ask a guard if they knew where the mill owner, Gerdur would be. One points her out to me, and I head towards her. She is dressed in a casual brown farm dress, and her blond hair is swept back, hanging loosely behind her. She has a stern expression on her face, constantly doing one thing or another, clearly busy. I walk up to her, trying to be as calm as I can.

"Ralof said you could help me out." I say trying to look friendly and sincere.

The woman gives me a hard expression. "Ralof? How do you know him?" she asks suspiciously.

"I'm a friend." I say "And he promised you could help."

"If you really are Ralof's friend, I'll be glad to help you. But you didn't answer my question - how do you know him?" she presses.

Wow. Gerdur doesn't miss a thing. "We escaped from Helgen together." I tell her.

"You did? We heard that Ulfric was captured... ... no, sorry, but in times like these I can't just take the word of a stranger who wanders into town claiming to be my brother's friend."

How could I convince her I am being honest? I force myself to recall the horrible events. "A dragon attacked Helgen and destroyed it. Ralof and I escaped together." I explain grimly.

"A dragon? In Helgen? It can't be... although... It would explain what I saw earlier... flying down the valley from the south... I thought I must have just been seeing things…" Gerdur rambles incredulously.

"That dragon flew off this way. You must have seen it." I try again to get her to believe me.

"You're right, I saw it. But... how's that possible? Dragons don't exist... they're just stories from long ago…" Gerdur struggles to wrap her mind around it, and I have to sympathize with her. I feel the same way.

I state firmly "Ralof will tell you the same thing. He should be here any minute."

"I don't know why... but I actually believe you. You've got the look of someone who's just seen a dragon. Things just go from bad to worse. First the war, now dragons... what's this world coming to?" Gerdur fretts, finally giving in "The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

"Of course" I say, not really knowing what I am getting myself into "Where is that?"

"Cross the river and then head north. You'll see Whiterun on its hill as you pass the falls." She instructs.

"Do- do you have any supplies I could take?" I ask, hesitant if she'll allow a stranger to use her stuff.

"Like I said, I'm glad to help in any way I can. Help yourself to whatever you need, within reason."

She hands me some stuff she has on her. I feel weird accepting free goods, but I can't afford to refuse. Plus, I am the one who asked. Gerdur offers me food and health potions. My mouth waters at the sight of a glorious apple pie. I have to stop myself from gobbling it all down now. "What's the jarl like?" I ask as we wait for Ralof.

"Jarl Balgruuf? I don't mean to be disrespectful, as he's ruled Whiterun Hold well for years, but he seems in over his head now." I am not looking forward to being the bearer of bad news after that comment, she continues "He's been trying to stay out of the war, but it can't last. He's going to have to pick a side. I'm afraid he's going to make the wrong choice." she speculates.

Interesting. I thought all jarls were one side or the other. I hope he can stay neutral for as long as possible. It makes me feel at ease to know there is a place where the war seems less prominent. At least when it comes to picking sides. "Is Balgruuf loyal to the Empire?" I ask.

"I wouldn't say that. But he and Ulfric have been at odds for years, and I'm afraid Balgruuf will end up siding with the Empire because of it. But it's hard to believe that even Balgruuf would choose Elisif over Ulfric."

"So you're on the stormcloak side like your brother?"

"Of course. Ulfric's cause is just. It's time for Skyrim to rid itself of the Empire." Gerdur confirms. "The Empire may have been good for Skyrim once upon a time, but those days are long past. Banning the worship of Talos was the last straw. Thalmor everywhere, dragging people off for honoring our own gods! I'm glad Ralof is helping drive them out of here. If I was a bit younger, I might have joined the fight myself."

Hearing about the Thalmor from someone who had to live with it, awoke a new sort of rage inside of me. I try and clear my head, breaking the tension by asking "So who is Elisif?"

"I suppose she's Jarl Elisif now. She married High King Torygg just before Ulfric killed him. The Empire supports her claim to be High Queen. I don't really have anything against her - not her fault that her husband Torygg was bought and paid for by the Empire. But she's nothing but a puppet for the Empire now, with her husband Torygg dead. Ulfric will make sure she never takes the throne as High Queen."

"Wait, wait." I stop her, curious "Tell me more. Ulfric killed the high king, right?" I repeat.

"Some say murdered, but it was a lawful challenge in the old way. Ulfric called him out as a traitor to Skyrim, and killed him in single combat. If Torygg couldn't defend his throne, he had no business being High King."

That...kind of made sense. I do not know how I feel about Torygg being killed in cold blood, and for what, change of power? Weren't there more peaceful methods? And even if there weren't, the High King was not the problem. The Thalmor are. "There's no High King now." I mention, Skyrim seems to be doing awfully well for the fact that it is basically under anarchy.

"No, not until the Moot meets to choose another. And it won't meet until one side or the other wins the war. Don't worry, though. Ulfric is our rightful High King. He'll drive out the Empire and Skyrim will have peace at last."

I am not sure how consoling the naïve gesture was, and I have have no time to ask any more questions. For, suddenly Gerdur's stern expression turns into surprised, then gleeful one. "Gerdur!" I hear a familiar voice and see Ralof approaching with the stormcloak rebel from before.

"Brother! Mara's mercy, you're safe! Your friend told me about Helgen…"

I turn toward the stormcloak, as Gerdur fusses over her brother. "Hello. I am Stormrider." The stormcloak says, in a rather formal tone. "Ralof told me about Helgen as well. I'm sorry that happened to you."

Stormrider was a tall redguard woman, dressed head to toe in strong armor, a bow strapped to her back. Her eyes had a wild look to them, as if something lurked in their depths. I can see from a first glance that Stormrider is not a person to be trifled with. "Thanks." I mumble, not wanting to talk about Helgen anymore than I have already had too. "My name is Rosaeline Selve, it is a pleasure to meet you." I hold out a hand.

The woman stares at it for a moment before taking my bare hand, in her gloved one. It was awkward shaking with someone wearing heaving armor, and though she was gentle, I could feel Stormrider's strength. "Do all stormcloak's dress like you?" I blurt, thinking if they did, the Imperials wouldn't stand a chance.

To my surprise the woman let out a laugh. "Goodness, no. I don't know many who do." she lowers her voice "To tell you the truth, I am not one for the war. I do some tasks for Ulfric and his men, but really I prefer adventure over all that bloodshed. I'm a mercenary in trade, actually."

"Really?" I ask, eyes widening. "What's it like?"

She laughs again. It is a nice friendly sound. There is something about her that I just can't quite place. She seems confident, a nice personality, clearly hiding something complex. Only, she does not seem withdrawn, nor bad intentioned. It is almost as if Stormrider is avoiding the spotlight for the good of others, not her own preference. "It's slow at first. Dangerous. Pays well." The redguard takes a moment to think "It is fun to tell you the truth. I get to see the world, meet new people. Very, very scary at some points. Sometimes it feels like I'm constantly cheating death, getting into things I probably should have left alone."

She takes a moment to look at me. I wonder what she sees. My armor miss matched, barely holding itself together. My coarse hair a mess under my helmet. Blood stains my side, and I haven't eaten properly in days. I am a mess, there's no other way to put it. This revelation is what makes Stormrider's observation catch me so off guard. "You're young, kid. You have your whole life ahead of you. That's the thing about Skyrim, there's the war and the Nords deciding whether they want to be the high elves puppets or not. But there's also a whole country of unique places, and inside them- unique people. So many have fallen into the path of darkness, so many have died defending what they hold true in their hearts. And you." I struggle to make eye contact. Great divines, this lady says the deepest things. She continues, "You choose who you want to be. How you spend your days, how you end them. Not everyone gets that choice, so make the best of it. You made your way here with many expectations no doubt, so go discover how _you_ can meet 'em."

I open my mouth to reply, but I have nothing. I just stare blankly until I hear Ralof say my name. "Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe Rosaeline my life, in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials…"

"You're right. Follow me."

Gerdur gestures for us to come, and I look back at Stormrider. She gives me a wise smile. "Go on, I have other places to be, and it seems you do as well." at my hesitation she adds "Times like these can be dark, if you ever need a mentor to help you find your way, come visit me in Whiterun. I have a house there, Breezehome."

I nod, then turn back to see Gerdur and Ralof already making their way to somewhere private. I quickly follow as they lead me to spot near the mill where no one is around. "Hod!" Gerdur calls to a man nearby "Come here a minute. I need your help with something."

"What is it, woman? Sven drunk on the job again?" he stays where he is.

"Hod. Just come here." Gerdur tries again, patience waning.

Hod turns around, spotting me, and then Ralof. "Ralof! What are you doing here? Ah... I'll be right down."

I am not sure I like this Hod, but I do not feel it is my place to say anything. In fact, I feel lucky to be a part of what is clearly a family matter. A young boy who must be their child runs up to us. "Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?"

"Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games." Gerdur attempts to quiet him and send him away "Go and watch the south road. Find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming."

Clearly Gerdur's word are not as respected by her family as she means them to be. Either that or children are masters at talking back. "Aw, mama, I want to stay and talk with uncle Ralof!" he whines.

Ralof steps in, playing the affectionate uncle...Who is secretly on his sisters side. "Look at you, almost a grown man! Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself!"

"That's right! Don't worry uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you!" Frodnar obliges gleefully.

As the boy runs off his father approaches. "Now, Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in." Hod inquires.

"I can't remember the last time I slept. Where to start?" Rolaf says, his face growing dark "Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was...two days ago, now. We stopped at Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up for the headsman's block and ready to start chopping!"

"The cowards!" Gerdur's eyes flashed with fear and rage.

"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then!" Rolaf paused his rant, the continued "But then...out of nowhere...a dragon attacked."

"You don't mean a real, live..." Hod stammers.

Gerdur nods at him grimly. Ralof puts a hand on his forehead, and says"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there! As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away." He looked to his sister "Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?"

"Nobody has come up the south road today, as far as I know." Gerdur replies.

"Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I'd hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..."

"Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay as long as you need. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine." She turns to me "Here's the key to the house. Stay as long as you like. There's something you can do for me. For all of us."

"Wow. Thank you!" I breathe, not used to this kindness from people I barely knew. Except from Rolaf perhaps. I can see how they are related.

I take the spare key, and place it generally in the small pocket of my bag. I look to Gerdur once more. "We need to send word to Jarl Balgruuf to send whatever troops he can. Riverwood is defenseless. If you do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

"I won't let you down." I promise.

"Thanks, sister. I knew I could count on you." Rolaf thanks his sister.

"I ought to get back to work before I'm missed, but did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric..." I can almost see the wave of dread passing over her.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak!" Rolaf declares, and I think _Do these people trust their faith more than probability?_

"I'll let them into the house and, you know, show them where everything is." Hod cuts in, turning to me.

Gerdur gives throws him a look. "Hhmm. Help them drink up our mead, you mean." then she turned again to Rolaf "Good luck, brother. I'll see you later."

"Don't worry about me. I know how to lay low."

Ralof's figure gets smaller and smaller as we head off separately, for good this time. It doesn't occur to me to miss him, he was a travel companion, someone keeping me closer to life than death. I realize I didn't really ever know him as a person. Though I feel no need to ever see the stormcloak again, I send a prayer to the divines. That a nice person like Ralof will survive the war. Honor or no, death on the battlefield, is still just death.

* * *

Hod shows me to their house, and I thank him for all he and his family has done for me. He urges me to stay the night, and rest before my journey. I politely decline, itching to be on the move. I know I could never have gotten this far without help, but I need to do this myself. I came here to take life into my own hands, and finally I have the chance. The freedom. There is no way I am wasting a second of that.

Double checking my pack, I head over to the blacksmith. According to Hod the owner is an imperial by the name of Alvor. Despite their different beliefs, Gerdur's family are on friendly terms with the blacksmith, and visit his shop often. When I arrive, Alvor is at work on the shop's porch, busy sharpening a blade. "Excuse me?" I say, and the man looks up from his work to catch my eye "I'm heading to Whiterun, and Hod said you could help me with supplies…"

My words didn't surprise Alvor the slightest, in fact he seems to have been expecting me. "Ah, yes. Hadvar told me about you."

"Wha- what?" I stutter, Gerdur had said no one else had some by here "You must be mistaken. I traveled here with...someone else."

I avoid mentioning Rolaf. He had said he was lying low, and I anywho, if Hadvar has been here, I am not as safe as I thought I am. Alvor looks me over, as if he didn't believe me. "Okay." he says after awhile "I guess I mistook you for someone else. Apologies. My nephew Hadvar came by a few hours ago, said some prisoners escaped. During a dragon attack no less! I can see from the worried look in your eyes, you can hardly believe it more than I do." He chuckled "Hey, where'd you say you were going again? Whiterun? Think you could tell the jarl about all this while you're there? No need to mention the escapees. The only one with a bounty is Ulfric himself, and he is heavily guarded anyway."

"Uh, yeah I could do that." I say, trying to remember why I came "I need supplies though. I have some stuff, but if I could get a better blade. Or maybe some small pouches to carry my stuff?"

"Of course. I have some stuff here you might find useful." He says handing me the blade he was working on, and a few leather pouches which I quickly attach to my belt. "I could trade your extra supplies for coin, you know. It seems in decent shape."

I hand him the stormcloak armor, a practically blunt sword, and my extra helmet. Slipping the gold into one of my new pouches, I barely care how bad the deal was. I do not need the stuff I sold, but I badly need the septims. Kissing Riverwood goodbye, I cross the river, following the road north like Gerdur had instructed.

I pick more of the flowers I find by the edge of the road. One of the guards had told me these were mountain flowers. I pick blue ones, and red ones, and purple ones. I have absolutely no idea what they do but they weigh almost nothing so I stuff them in one of the leather pouches, not caring to sort them. Whiterun comes into view a few hours and about a dozen wolves later. My sword is bloodied, and I have gotten tired of wiping it off on the grass. In the books I used to read as a child, warriors had convient cloths in their scabbards. I make a note to buy one and I wonder for the billionth time how Havok is faring. He is around two years my younger and an animal lover to the end. I cannot imagine my soft best friend killing a wolf, even if it meant saving his own life.

I pass by a farm, and the owner's assistants Nimriel and Gloth are scarily nice. They allow me to pick their produce whenever I want, and offer to buy it from me. Whiterun's walls are in sight, and I feel a wave of calm pass over me as I see it. I decide this is the best possible place to start over. "Khajiit has wares if you have the coin." I spot a group of khajiit camped out outside the city. "I don't have the coin." I say back in a disappointed tone, eyeing their goods longingly.

"Come back if you want to trade." And they get back to what they were doing like I had never shown up.

And there are the city gates. I rush up to the large doors anticipating my arrival. This was it, this is it! Scoping the winding stair way leading to the entrance, I take a final bounding step. And fall off the edge.


End file.
